


lit me up

by necrocrunk



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Retrospective, and also noctis, mentions of gladio and ignis, vague chapter 14 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrocrunk/pseuds/necrocrunk
Summary: "prompto cannot possibly imagine, he thinks, how comforting it must be- he tries to fathom exactly what it might be like if he were in a similar situation."prompto thinks about what it's like to be alone





	lit me up

**Author's Note:**

> this is admittedly a vent fic that wasn't Supposed to be one- sometimes my brain provides me with really good opening sentences and i kind of build on them?

prompto cannot possibly imagine, he thinks, how comforting touch must be when your world is virtually all sensation. having your head tucked against gladio’s shoulder while he combs calloused fingers through your hair. gladio is all comfort when he wants to be, and iggy made a good choice, he thinks too.   
he tries to fathom exactly what it might be like if he were in a similar situation. recalls the times noct has toyed with his hair till he’s fallen asleep, or the times he’s woke in the middle of the night practically laying on one of them. he’s got no frame of reference- no relationships past his friends. he doesn’t notice how he’s started to pinch the skin between his thumb and index.  
  
the room is large and mostly dark, save for a soft and dim lamp on a cart doubling as a nightstand, sitting between their beds. other hunters have taken to occupying the remaining beds- it’s better to put everyone in one place in times like these. they don't stay in bunkers like these all the time, but in prompto's situation, he'd drug them down to having to stop halfway back to hammerhead. he turns his bandaged and casted leg- he's thankful for the supplies they had to assist, but hates that his dumb mistake made them waste them like this. turns out hobgoblins know how weak a shin can be if you hit it hard enough. 

all of this was a minor complaint for the time being. his brain was instead, fixated on overthinking. specifically on exactly how  _alone_ he was. they'd slept together for years- even in the hotels, they shared two beds at most.  he'd always woken up to a presence beside him. at camps it wasn't uncommon to wake up with more than one person clinging to you.   
but now he laid alone, in one of the larger beds to accommodate for his cast. he didn't know what he was complaining for, they couldn't fit all of them on a bed and his leg was broken enough. but he knew circumstances would be different if all of them were here.  
he pinches his hand hard enough he can feel the pressure point there pounding- digs his nails in to offset it.  _but noct_ isn't  _here_ , he snaps at himself,  _and you can't rely on him to do everything for you anymore_. he swallows heavy; feels like lead in his throat, and takes a breath to steady himself. 

he wants to go outside, to slip out the door and do  _something_ besides lay here. he hadn't meant to pick up smoking, and he likes to think its not something he relies on, but it's nights when stale air and empty silences clog his thoughts that he turns to it. it feels humiliating in a sense, he knows what anyone would say if they actually caught him.   
he can't even get out of his bed, though. gladio helped him just getting into it, and he can't be putting any weight on his leg, not for a week or so. he grits his teeth at the thought, taking to rubbing his thumb hard over the spot he'd pinched.   
  
prompto misses him,  admittedly. it wasn't like they all did, but he  _really_ misses him. he doesn't know how it compares to gladio and ignis, but he's got his own reasons. misses someone he can be honest and close to and can expect the same in return from. he's aware of the space it puts between him and the others, without noctis there as a buffer.   
and that starts  _another_ train of thought-  
it makes his throat close up- what if they didn't really want him around? what if they only kept in contact with him because of noct? he knows how little they go on hunts together now, and prompto doesn't tell them about the ones he's done by himself when they're not there to watch him.  
prompto bares his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut in the near darkness, holding back the hiccup that was trying to escape. 

  
he thinks it must be nice to have someone around to care for you. it's not like he's not used to doing it himself, but a change of pace was nice, while it lasted. iggy still cooks sometimes, when they have the supplies and they're actually all together, but they don't enjoy it like they used to.   
he thinks about how, on nights like these, before everything, someone would sit with him and rub his back till he forgot about what was bothering him. no one had done that in a while- it was too childish, maybe. 

  
he thinks about where he might have messed up along the way. what mistake he'd made for things to be like this.  
it feels like all he has is himself, and a couple of friends who are a mile away.  
if he cries, it's quiet, and he doesn't think about it. rather, takes another dose of the pain medication he'd been given and waits for it to kick in.

 


End file.
